Things Gone Awry
by yourINSPIRINGsoul31
Summary: Amon: a junkie lawyer getting away with it. Robin: A rejected prostitute due to personal issues. Starts with a party, will it end in tears? Or worse? NO LEMON! Only references
1. Chapter 1

Hewo! I confess, I have had absolutely no time to write fics and I had an idea sparked by a newfound favorite song. So bear with me, I'll get to my other fics on my own sweet time. Until then, read, enjoy, and review! This was inspired by "Build God, Then We'll Talk" by Panic! At the Disco. And with that note, BEGIN!

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Disclaimer: I do will forever not own WHR until I around 11:30 at night when I fall asleep and dream that I own it.

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The fire alarm went off again at 2:00 in the morning again. It was a huge shocker, considering the neighbors' constant lust for every drug available to them. Amon had his own fair share of drugs, having been in and out of rehab one or two... or several times. Probably needing to again, seeing that he'd woken up in his friend's room again surrounded by numerous ingredients extremely familiar to him.

"Shit," He mumbled as he picked himself up realizing, it was their room that caused the alarm to go off. Amon swung himself around the corner into the kitchen.

"Dammit!" A young, sandy-blonde haired teen was frantically fanning away the smoke from a pan on the stove filled with some sort of concoction that was probably meant to be food. Amon rubbed his temples.

"Michael," He muttered angrily.

"Yeah?"

"Don't cook." Michael smirked and set his smoke on a pile of empty take-out boxes.

"Midnight cravings. Can't help it."

"Right…" Amon hovered over the smoldering gunk and looked to Michael questioningly. "And this was supposed to be…"

"Pancakes, I think."

"You think?" Amon sighed again and Michael smiled innocently. "Whatever. I gotta get to work." He shuffled to the bedroom.

"I'm still surprised they don't even notice you're a junkie, man." Michael yelled from the kitchen. "I mean you're a lawyer. _They're_ lawyers. Can't they tell?"

"I go in, I do my job, and I leave. No one knows me personally." He replied, buttoning his work shirt.

"You're gonna have to switch jobs soon, ya know. The police are on our trail again."

"Yeah," He pulled on his jacket and stepped towards the door. "I know." He grabbed a can of cologne on a stand by the door and sprayed himself. "See ya tonight."

Michael waved good-bye as he scrubbed the pan and Amon shut the door behind him.

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OMG! Amon's a junkie! Twisted, no?


	2. Chapter 2

Hello! This is my attempt at resurrecting one of my stories. I really like this one and I'll do my best to do justice. My writing style has changed DRASTICALLY, so forgive me if it's effect has shifted. Enjoy?

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Disclaimer: Have not, still don't, never will own this.

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The city was burning. Asphalt shimmered in the midday heat, and the glass that coated the decaying city gathered, multiplied, and exploded in a frenzy of light and fire. Amon shielded his eyes from the sudden exposure. The cheap florescent lighting of the apartments didn't hold a flame to the inferno and he waited for his eyes to adjust. The light dimmed and the life around him lit up. A group of teenage boys huddled in a corner of the building. Their stuff was shit. Two pairs of thigh high boots sauntered down the road, and a glimmer of innocence dribbled up and down the cracked basketball court. It had been like that for weeks. The summer weather was merciless in Las Vegas. The only thing different today was a man standing bravely in front of the sin-ridden building. A priest. He advanced in strides and motioned his sign of faith. 'Won't do much help there,' Amon thought. He wiped a bead of sweat from his forehead and took a step into hell.

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Sea blue eyes blinked open to the weak light of the sun shining through a dirty window. Robin stirred from her nest of blankets and stared vacantly at the clock. She had slept late. Again. Robin lay back down and curled up. It didn't matter. She didn't work till much, much later. And after last night, she deserved the extra sleep. Robin clenched the sheets at the recollection. Last night was… something she didn't want to remember. Almost every night for the past two years was a night she didn't want to remember. Robin reached gingerly for comfort on the nightstand. A string of black beads glimmered as a beam of sunlight struck it. Bead after bead she prayed. She prayed a bead for strength. She prayed a bead for forgiveness. She prayed a bead to be cleansed. She couldn't remember how she fell into this hole, and now she couldn't figure out how to get out of it. This was her life now. As soiled, polluted, and dishonest as it was, she was stuck. Robin rose from bed and headed for the shower. Maybe this time, she could wash the memories and sins from her body.

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Yes, no? How's it going? Reviews maybe?


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